


Memory Lock

by Fulcrumisthebomb



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M, fluffy fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-11 23:48:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/804649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fulcrumisthebomb/pseuds/Fulcrumisthebomb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe he wouldn't recognize the significance. Orion Pax's endearing naiveté ran deep below Optimus' sense of responsibility and duty, sometimes forgotten but never gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memory Lock

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jeegoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeegoo/gifts).



There was always too much to do, but I didn't let Optimus lull me into complacency with that fact. I hadn't run a personal routine diagnostic on him since shortly after we'd landed on Earth, and it was long past time to clear that off my endless checklist. Like the other Autobots, our Prime was apprehensive when ordered to my med bay, but he relaxed after I explained my intentions. I sat him next to my console so I could continue calibrations while keeping half a processor on him as well.

We were both mildly uncomfortable at being plugged into each other where anyone could walk in, but I reminded him- and myself- that this was standard procedure. Nothing to be embarrassed about. His expression was unreadable after that, but I ignored the tingle of curiosity and returned to multitasking.

Time clicked unheeded as I worked, my concentration on calibrating reduced by the strange-yet-familiar feeling of Optimus' consciousness bleeding through our connection. We had long ago reached a compromise for the tedious task of diagnostics; I would continue any experiments or work I had going while he was allowed to run his own uneducated version of a diagnostic on myself to ease the boredom. As inexperienced in the medical field as he was, it was better than nothing, and he had an uncanny habit of being able to find root problems I missed in my own systems.

So I was completely unconcerned as he prodded through my memory banks, occasionally stopping to review a file before moving on. I knew which file he accessed as soon as he did so, mostly interested in historical data and medical inquiries, and my attention wandered until I felt him send a tenuous question.

//Ratchet... If I may ask, what are these?//

I followed his consciousness to a remote area, my frame going rigid when I realized where he was. Instinctively I engaged preset firewalls, but he was already far past them- and he'd set one memory on playback already, starting a long chain of short clips I'd recorded over the vorns.

_Optimus reaching down to lift me to my feet, shielding me from a nearby explosion._

_A nervous Optimus resting on my medical berth for the first time._

_Optimus cradling me to his chassis as I cried over the warrior I could not save._

_Optimus in a rare moment of teasing, chasing me with a welder._

_Optimus smiling as he stated how proud he was of me._

On and on they went, linked together and spilling forth buried emotions. My panic rose to a fevered pitch as I attempted to halt the process and block him from the rest of the content. He eventually understood what I was attempting to do through the overwhelming stream of data and withdrew from the files. I sealed the access hastily and rattled the cable between us in warning, giving him just enough time to retreat before I yanked the hardline.

"Ratchet." His voice was heavy with regret. "I am sorry-,"

"It's my fault," I snapped, steadily keeping my optics on the console. "I always place a memory lock there before connecting- I was distracted today. You're finished; you can go now."

An uneasy silence fell as Optimus remained exactly where he was, optics trained on my face as if he could read it as easily as my memory bank. Very few living Cybertronians knew just how stubborn Optimus could be, but I also knew I could match it with my own force of will. I refocused completely on my work, steadily ignoring his stare as time crawled by.

Maybe he wouldn't recognize the significance. Orion Pax's endearing naiveté ran deep below Optimus' sense of responsibility and duty, sometimes forgotten but never gone.

I was startled out of my concentration by a hand resting over mine to still it. When he spoke, it was in that impossibly gentle tone I could never refuse.

"What have you not told me, old friend?"

So much for that foolish hope. I ex-vented in frustration. "I don't want to talk about it."

"I understand," he replied softly, his hand tightening around mine. "And I won't press you, but please allow me ask just this; is not discussing it the wisest choice?"

"It has been so far," I returned hotly. _Primus,_ he could be so confusing at times. Did he get it or didn't he? If he did, would he really keep quiet about it? Would we still be close, the same as we've always been, or would he see me differently? Treat me differently? Humiliation and fear flooded my processor, scrambling my thoughts into a fragmented jumble.

"The circumstances have changed, though," he reminded me gently, gazing worriedly at me as I turned a scowl on him.

"It's _wrong,_ " I said bluntly, snatching my hand from his. "Whatever my feelings are, they are _highly_ inappropriate and _completely_ unnecessary. You and I have functioned perfectly as a team without you being aware of my misguided infatuation, which is justification enough for not sharing."

He chased and gripped my hand again, using his superior strength to tug me closer. It was odd, having to look down at him. "I ache to realize you felt you could not trust me with this."

I shuttered my optics to hide from the pitying stare. "It's not a matter of trust, but what was _right._ "

"I admire your dedication to protocol," he said warmly, "but as much as it pains me to say it, the laws of Cybertron are carried only within us few. We are galaxies and vorns away from caste rules, Ratchet; why should we deny ourselves happiness when we can find it?"

I sputtered, unsure if he was hinting at what I desperately hoped he was. My optics flew open when I felt a finger tap one of my side panels, surprised to find him waiting with one of his slender dark cables.

"You have not carried this burden alone. Please, let me show you."

I nodded dumbly, obediently retracting my paneling to grant access. He sent several data packets through the connection, and I was startled to read such old timestamps on the first few images. I saw myself repeated through the memories; tending the wounded, researching, lecturing and performing a myriad of menial tasks. Laughing, yelling, even an embarrassing few of me singing. Optimus' emotions were embedded in each, ranging from strong reactions of mirrored sorrow to intense joy from merely a smile I gave.

//This is friendship,// I commed silently, threading my frustration through the connection.

Optimus didn't respond; the images blurred as they rushed forward through time, pausing at one that was marked only a few Sun cycles ago. A short clip of my expression as he returned victorious from a mission, relief and admiration clearly evident in my face. A surge of fierce protectiveness and love overwhelmed me, the pleasure flooding his sensory net racing to fill my own. I gasped, reaching out to steady myself with a hand on his shoulder.

//I do my best to treat everyone with equal respect and consideration,// he sent, //but you have always been special to me. You make me feel _complete,_ as no one ever has.// One hand trailed upwards to rest over my spark, his optics glowing with affection and my intakes sputtered as they cycled to a higher setting.

//You're my _Prime,_ // I protested, but the argument sounded weak even to myself. His hands guided me down slowly, giving me a chance to retreat before our mouths met with sweet hunger.

//Yes, dear Ratchet, I am.//


End file.
